


(you know i know what it means) to be fraying at the seams

by sandpapersnowman



Category: The Collector Series (Movies)
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Restraints, Touch-Starved, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 04:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8236444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandpapersnowman/pseuds/sandpapersnowman
Summary: The Collector's focus has moved from his scars to the first real wound he gave him; his missing tooth.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sanguiniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguiniel/gifts).
  * Translation into Español available: [(you know i know what it means) to be fraying at the seams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14207355) by [JanBen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanBen/pseuds/JanBen)
  * Inspired by [You Know I Know What It Means](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8236085) by [sanguiniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguiniel/pseuds/sanguiniel). 



> this is like a direct sequel to sanguiniel's [You Know I Know What It Means](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8236085), read that first!!! holy shit!!!!!! its so good yall!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> extra warning for mild blood swallowing oop

The tooth thing starts happening often enough he wonders if he’s looking for something or if he’s just creepy.

It’s gotten, somehow, more intimate, too, where instead of propping his mouth open with metal and shoving his gloves in, he’ll take them off and feel his gums with his bare fingertip. That causes its own problems; the first skin-to-skin contact he’s had in however long he’s been here, and it’s someone’s clean, soap-tasting finger squirming into his mouth to poke at a still-sore wound.

 _That’s_ bad enough. It’s worse that he doesn’t mind solely _because_ it’s human contact.

He still tries to bite on instinct sometimes, and then his lower teeth line with blood from his punctured cheek. He’s gotten about as used to that feeling as someone can, but not enough that he doesn’t still slip up and go for his fingers once in awhile.

This time isn’t as bad as the last time, but there’s still blood dripping off his bottom lip by the time the Collector pulls his fingers out. They’re covered in blood too, the thin, pink kind that’s mixed with spit and clings to his teeth by a string.

The metal piece isn’t taken out of his cheek immediately.

He’s breaking routine. He hasn’t broken routine since he started taking his gloves off.

Arkin leans back as far as he can manage in the chair the guy’s got him in (which isn’t far at all) and tries to look more suspicious than nervous.

His hands return to Arkin’s face, more gentle than they’ve ever been. The Collector’s inhuman eyes flicker over his features, finally focusing on the bead of blood that hasn’t quite gotten enough weight to it to fall.

It’s gross enough to feel it drying on his chin and where it’s slid down his neck, but then the Collector _smears_ it with his thumb, making it pull his lip as the blood turns sticky and turning his finger red and tacky.

Arkin’s glaring now, wishing the metal wasn’t in his mouth so he could ask what the fuck is wrong with him, and then the Collector leans closer.

This close, he can see all the creases in the material of his mask. Can smell his breath, which doesn’t smell like rotting meat or the souls of the damned, like he’d expected, but just like toothpaste. Something plain and minty.

He’s distracted enough that the Collector’s mouth closing over his bottom lip surprises him.

He tries to pull away, but he’s already as far back in the chair as he can manage. The Collector’s eyes don’t shut as he pulls the blood off his mouth, though Arkin can’t decide if that’s better or worse than him closing them.

Actually, it’s worse; with his eyes open, he can probably see the blood rushing under Arkin’s cheeks, maybe notice his pupils dilate. Maybe even catch his eyebrows twitching together for a second as everything in him screams to _give in_ , it’s _kind_ , mouths are _so good_.

He tries to turn his head away instead, but the Collector’s hands force him forward again. Just in time to see him swallow the blood and spit he must have gotten off his lip.

The Collector shuts his eyes this time. Arkin thinks he’s going to ‘kiss’ him again, and he’s prepared for that, but then there’s just a wet tongue pressed flat to his lower lip and dragging.

Arkin makes a _noise_.

He shuts his eyes too. He thinks he’d rather die than live with the fact that he just did that, did that vulnerable, quiet, _pleased_ sigh.

The Collector tugs on his face again, his palms more under his ears and halfway on his neck now, and Arkin thinks it probably looks like a real kiss from the outside. His stomach turns as the guy’s tongue dips behind his lip, running over his bottom teeth like he’s cleaning the blood off of them too.

The tough edge of the Collector’s mask catches on his upper lip while he laps over his teeth.

He’s never wanted to know what the leathery black material feels like on his mouth, but he knows now.

It takes the guy too long to pull away, and his lips are red with Arkin’s blood when he does. Arkin’s stomach turns again.

He finally pulls the metal out of his cheek, mouth still wet and hanging open from concentration while he keeps it from hurting him any more.

He licks most of the red off his lips when he sets it down on the tray he brings the metal in on.

The Collector smiles at him.

And again, Arkin would _love_ death right now, because all he can think is how that wasn’t _enough_.

Arkin spits the rest of the blood and saliva out of his mouth to hide the retch that pushes up his throat.

**Author's Note:**

> did you know you can find me on [tumblr](http://sandpapersnowman.tumblr.com/ao3direct)? : O


End file.
